


Facade

by brasspetal



Series: The Nameless Quiet [7]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Broody Rick, Developing Relationship, M/M, The beginning not the end, more kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 20:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11215806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brasspetal/pseuds/brasspetal
Summary: He created a mausoleum in his skull.





	Facade

**Author's Note:**

> At this point I'd recommend reading the other parts of this series for the tension to make sense but it's up to you. Thank you for reading!

The sun bursts bright in the sky, scaring away what’s left of the clouds.

There’s something about routine that Rick finds peace in. He’s like a lot of people that way. There’s something about knowing that tomorrow he’ll wake up. He’ll open his eyes to the light from the window, dancing on the ceiling.

He’d stand, overlooking the community before him and he’d think about a world long gone, come back to life.  Rick sometimes tells Judith bedtime stories about two boys who grew up together in Georgia, who had nothing but routine to look forward to. Most days, that time felt like it belonged to someone else. He created a mausoleum in his skull.

Looking out of that bright window in his bedroom, he spots Daryl then, holding his crossbow. By the looks of it, he just cleaned it. He nods at Rick and Rick nods back. An acknowledgement. _I’m here. I’m always here_

There’s an understanding of breath and bone, of the quiet and hearts filled. Rick wants to bask in it. He wants to take to the woods and conquer it, as if he’s a young man again. He can’t be that person though. He can’t be free. He’ll never be free like that.

He can’t let his head get caught up in thinking of storms and what ifs. He needed to be here, in the now. People counted on him, he never understood why but they did. He had to have the comfort and the answers they needed. There is no room in that for dreams. No room for stolen moments over too soon.

Daryl would understand that, he already did. He watches his back retreat ahead, down the road a ways.

\--

It’s a week later, after a feast the group prepared at Rick’s house. Everyone seems content in quiet conversation and Rick makes his way to the kitchen.

Daryl follows in after him and Rick pretends to dry the same coffee cup, again and again.

“It’s time for some scavengin’.” Daryl says it from behind him. He tenses, closing his eyes.  

“I can’t.” Rick answers and sets down the cup on the clean countertop.

“You can’t?” Daryl questions gruffly.

“I’m needed here.” Rick says and chances a glance in Daryl’s direction. Daryl is squinting at him. The irritation is growing in his stature.

“To play checkers? That’s bullshit.” Daryl replies.

Rick leans with his palms against the counter and chews on the words for a moment before he finally releases them. “I gotta keep my head outta the clouds.”

Daryl sidles up beside him, closer. “I don’t see no clouds, just you and me.”

Rick knew looking at him now would set him back but he can’t help it. His eyes meet Daryl’s, absorbing the anger displayed.

Rick lowers his voice, “These people depend on me. I can’t be runnin’ around in the woods.” It hurts him to say it but there it is, out in the open.

“So that’s it then?” Daryl asks and shoves Rick’s shoulder to get him to face him.

Rick turns, meeting him face to face this time and he swallows from the brunt of it.

“You’re a liar, Rick _Grimes_. I can see it in your eyes.” Daryl says and points at him with his dirt stained fingers.

Why was it that this man could rip him open? He could destroy Rick if he wanted. Could bring him to the dirt once more but Daryl wasn’t a conqueror nor could he be conquered. He’s an anomaly. It’s like the world created him out of the horizon; made of Earth and sky.

They’re breathing together in such a tight space, it’s like holding lightning in the palm of his hand. Daryl’s anger is dissipating fast and he couldn’t take this anymore. He felt like screaming or jumping out of the nearest window, running off into the night as if he’s some lunatic taken over by the bright moon. Daryl moves in fast and their lips collide, softer than Rick expected. There’s never any violence to them when they’re like this. Rick pushes back against the refrigerator and he knocks the coffee cup to the floor shattering it. The glass pieces crunch under their boots and it doesn’t matter. It’s an afterthought. He rests his hand where Daryl’s jaw meets his neck and Daryl’s gripping his shirt. He twists his hand into a fist, wrinkling the material, taking out what’s left of his frustration. This is where he sets himself and all that he is, in the this shared space; shared breath. 

“Dad.”

They both break apart, the warmth evaporating.  A board creaks in the doorway. Their heads are down and they’re facing away from Carl.

“..yes, Carl?” Rick manages and his throat feels raw. He concentrates on the window sill, noticing the tiny knicks in the paint there.

“…nothing, never mind.” Carl says, awkwardly and he steps away, his footfalls fading.

Daryl and Rick stand there in the dark kitchen, mirroring each other. There’s a nervous urgency to the room now.

“Still have your head in the clouds?” Daryl asks, bitterly.

Rick runs a hand over his face before resting it on his hip, where his gun usually is.

“Daryl…” Rick begins.

“That’s what I thought.”  Daryl grits and heads for the door, flinging it open to the night air.

He was chasing a dream through a wasteland. He has to keep his eyes open, even if he’s never been clearer. He’d live and die by that man but he can’t do this right now. He can’t let go. He can’t get lost. Not yet.

Rick makes his way to the living room where Carl is sitting on the couch with his dirty boots and cleaning his gun.

“Did you need somethin’?” Rick asks.

“Nope.”

He’s in one of his moods and Rick didn’t have the patience for it right now. He steps back into the quiet kitchen as if dishes are what he should be doing. He doesn’t make a move to do anything though, he’s stuck on pause.

Rick knows there’s a brutal finality to this world and a fire that’s burned every corner of the Earth. Rick knew it through crawling in the mud and bleeding into the palms his hands, that Daryl Dixon is and would forever be the love of his miserable life. However long his life may be.

Why did it have to be here in the darkness?

He finally steps outside and the wind greets him with a gentle caress. He could breathe better out here. It felt more real than anything else.

Rick imagines meeting Daryl before all this and he can’t wrap his head around it. As if he was incorporeal, he would have just walked through him, not really seeing. This was the way it had to be. They fought through the darkness to find one another and met as equals.

Rick walks the grounds that night, silently searching for him but if Daryl didn’t want to be found he wouldn’t be. It was better this way for now. At least that’s what he tells himself. He’s losing his damn mind over this.

Rick thinks on things like purpose and inevitability; the ruminations thereof. He knows this distance won’t last, it never does with them.

“Lose a few marbles or somethin’” The voice comes from behind him and he’s drowning in relief.

“I thought you left.” Rick says, quick. Daryl shifts his feet, looking beyond him to the gate.

The town is a faded dark backdrop behind Daryl. It’s a facade like they’re playing house and maybe they are pretending but sometimes that’s what keeps the group going. “I just need time is all.”

Time is a luxury but it’s what he needed.

“I get it. I’ll be here, watchin’ you get your little paradise in order.” Daryl replies but he isn’t mocking him. He understands. The complete kind of understanding and that leaves Rick reeling.

He wants to tell him there will be time in future for the woods once they get this community more established but he’s not sure that’s true, he doesn’t want to lie. His chest is filling up with words he’ll never use. There’s always something down the road that wants to rob them of who they are. Rick knows this and Daryl knows it too.

Rick releases a quiet breath, “I need you…here.”

_With me._

“I ain’t never leavin’.” Daryl confidently reassures.

This place may end up like all the other burned towns with empty pages left to be filled but Rick had to try. He had to give them a purpose. It’s what they asked of him and he couldn’t deny them that.

Daryl deserves all things. He’s always deserved better. Better than him, better than this world. He doesn’t know how to tell him that. He’s forgotten how to speak.

“Your heads gonna pop with all those thoughts of yours.” Daryl says and Rick gives him a small smile in return.

“I’m sorry.” Is all he can manage, all he could ever manage.

“Stop apologizin’ for everything and everyone. You do what you gotta.” Daryl answers and the night cocoons around them.

“Thank you.” He finds Daryl’s eyes in the darkness. They’re just two hearts beating in tandem.

It’s a long while before the woods call them home again.

**Author's Note:**

> Since this is the last part in this series, I've decided to continue it in a multi-chapter fic. Here is the link if you are interested: [ Illusory ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11220954/chapters/25071273) I can't let them go :P I hope you enjoyed!


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